12. Moon
Title: Moon
Rating: G
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Romance / AU
Word Count: 1,395
Summary: 5 years in space would be horribly boring, and Minho was certain that he was losing his mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything here.
--
Watching the stars glimmer in the dark, satellites zoom ahead and asteroids whiz past him certainly brought Minho initial joy. Key word being initial. He enjoyed the sights very much, that he did not deny. It was lovely, magnificent, a piece of art, he might add.
Watching the same things though, for the past year and a half was horribly boring. And it did not help that his contract with the company would not end for another three and a half years. Minho loved the moon, he did. It was now a home to him, a little space station built on the surface of that tiny but horrendously humongous rock. He’d loved it, but he’d gotten tired. The job offer was good at first sight, no doubt. One could live on the moon, watch things that no ordinary human could, experience them, and get paid handsomely for just monitoring a couple of machines and repairing it if it should ever malfunction, which was really once in a blue moon - no pun intended.
What they did not bother to state, however, was that he would have to spend five years stuck in that space station, never leaving the confines of the station unless otherwise told. It wasn’t so bad at first, he had TV and a couple of games, but that was about it. Once in awhile the CEOs would send video logs from his loved ones to him (the live feed was spoilt and the company executives did nothing to fix it), who often questioned him about his job, how he was doing and that they’d missed him. Nothing more, nothing less.
So it had gotten lonely for the twenty-six year old man. So lonely that he’d taken to naming the harvesters - machines that were built to harvest the rocks on the moon that contained some sort of a precious gem that he heard would fetch a pretty price - and a couple of things around the station, and heck, he even talked to them occasionally. He was certain he was losing his mind.
And then a seed.
A smile, a chuckle, jet black locks whipping around wildly in the wind, a song, a dance.
That little seed, that little idea that had sprouted from a dream he had, it had almost possessed him, like how the CEOs of the company were possessed with the idea of moon gems, more previous than diamond or gold itself.
Why not make a person?
He had more than enough materials, no doubt. They had supplied him with more than enough to last for two years, and if he needed more, he could simply dispatch a message with the next shipment of gems.
And he was adequate enough. More than that, they had trained him to build A.Is, or Artificial life forms in case he’d ever needed help. With a photographic memory, it was hard to forget what he had been taught. He was certain, more than certain, that he could create a perfect model.
And he did.
Sketches, drafts and paper filled the floor around him as he inched back, taking one full look at the robot he’d created. Brushing his fingers over its almost too human-like skin, he silently cheered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was almost too perfect, too human.
He ran his hand through its mushroom-cut raven hair, cupping its cheek, hand trailing down to the collarbone as his free hand pressed the activation button. Slowly, the robot’s hand jerked, before jerking upwards to hold his own hand. Minho stopped. It was warm.
Buzzes filled the air as it came to life, systems started up, eyelids started to flutter, limbs moved and twitched. It opened its eyes to reveal dark brown orbs, a camera adjusting its focus, hidden behind the fake eye.
“Taemin.” Minho breathed as it turned to look at him, at first with a vacant expression, which was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Minho hyung.”
In time, Minho agreed with himself that Taemin was indeed quite perfect, almost too human. The way his chest rose and fell with the help of gears to make it seem like he was breathing, the way he talked, laughed, moved. Hell, Taemin even felt. The only difference he could really note was that Taemin did not have to eat, nor use the bathroom. He has a reserve tank of water in him in case he ever needs to cool his internals down, but that is about all the water he has in his body.
And being so lonely for so long, somewhere along the lines, Minho gradually started to fall in love with Taemin. He knew no good would come out of it. A human in love with a machine was ridiculous. And what's even more ridiculous was that he’d hoped that Taemin would reciprocate the feelings.
But the Taemin did.
Time rolled past, days, weeks, months. Minho showed him affection of course, through hugging, brushing of hair from his face, a kiss on the crown of his head, sweet words. And Taemin had given it all back.
Brushes of hands turned to intertwining ones, hugs were given, sweet nothings were whispered and kisses were stolen. Minho was sure that it was heaven.
He loved the way Taemin’s eyes creased when he smiled, loved the way he moved, loved the way he swayed his hips, loved the way he spoke, loved Taemin's laugh, and the way he threw a silent fit when something did not go the way he wanted it. He loved the way Taemin kissed him, the way he hugged him, the way he smelled, the way he said ‘Minho’, like the name was made to roll off his tongue. He loved everything about the robot, and he really didn’t care if society found it accepting.
But like all good things, it came to an end.
A.Is were not built to last very long, and Taemin started to break down a little after the second year passed. He malfunctioned more frequently, movements were more jerky, cameras did not coordinate well, data was jumbled one too many times.
“I’ll fix you up if you ever break down, Taemin-yah. I made you, and I can make you again.” Minho had assured Taemin one day, confidence brimming in his voice, and Taemin merely smiled.
He broke down completely a week after.
Minho had rebooted the system, changed his motherboards, created a new body, tried everything to re-create the Taemin he loved so very dearly, but it was to no avail. For some reason, all of Taemin’s memory was sealed, leaving the new robots (he’d refused to call them Taemin) with no memory of what had happened between them. He had tried to implant his own memory into the new robots’ chip, hoping that somehow, they’d know how he felt and feel the same way. But that had not worked either. The new ones he had made were simply not Taemin, and would never be.
The worst part of it all, Minho believed, was that he remembered everything so clearly, like it had only just happened. Everything he did, everywhere he went, he saw Taemin. He only saw Taemin. He wondered if it was the curse of having a photographic memory.
He set Taemin’s memory card back into his body, and reverted everything to the way it was before Taemin ‘died’. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pressed the activation button continuously, kissing him as he did so, chanting “wake up, wake up.”
There was, however, no whirls of engines, no buzz of systems, no laugh, no eye crinkles, nothing. Only silent sobs from the man clutching desperately onto the cold body.
A buzz.
A monitor came on in the distance, screen projecting the words ‘Live Feed Available’ for a brief moment before static replaced it, and Minho could barely make out the sounds coming from it.
Soft ‘Hello’s were heard as he inched closed, confused as to how the live feed was suddenly available. The company had made it clear that they would not fix it.
There was movement behind the monotonous fuzz that covered the screen, and somebody was talking to him. The static cleared up after a while, revealing a blonde man of around twenty-five years. “Seoul, Korea” was written at the bottom of the screen and Minho inched forward.
“Hello?”
--
Annddd then the rest if up to your imagination. 8'D;;a /gets ready to be shot/ But yes. Uhm. Quick update because I think that I'll be a little busy this week sob. But I'll post a fanart for SHINee's 3rd Anniversary this week eheh. Will definitely not miss that eheh. Have a great week ahead guys!
-Allena
Rating: G
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Romance / AU
Word Count: 1,395
Summary: 5 years in space would be horribly boring, and Minho was certain that he was losing his mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything here.
--
Watching the stars glimmer in the dark, satellites zoom ahead and asteroids whiz past him certainly brought Minho initial joy. Key word being initial. He enjoyed the sights very much, that he did not deny. It was lovely, magnificent, a piece of art, he might add.
Watching the same things though, for the past year and a half was horribly boring. And it did not help that his contract with the company would not end for another three and a half years. Minho loved the moon, he did. It was now a home to him, a little space station built on the surface of that tiny but horrendously humongous rock. He’d loved it, but he’d gotten tired. The job offer was good at first sight, no doubt. One could live on the moon, watch things that no ordinary human could, experience them, and get paid handsomely for just monitoring a couple of machines and repairing it if it should ever malfunction, which was really once in a blue moon - no pun intended.
What they did not bother to state, however, was that he would have to spend five years stuck in that space station, never leaving the confines of the station unless otherwise told. It wasn’t so bad at first, he had TV and a couple of games, but that was about it. Once in awhile the CEOs would send video logs from his loved ones to him (the live feed was spoilt and the company executives did nothing to fix it), who often questioned him about his job, how he was doing and that they’d missed him. Nothing more, nothing less.
So it had gotten lonely for the twenty-six year old man. So lonely that he’d taken to naming the harvesters - machines that were built to harvest the rocks on the moon that contained some sort of a precious gem that he heard would fetch a pretty price - and a couple of things around the station, and heck, he even talked to them occasionally. He was certain he was losing his mind.
And then a seed.
A smile, a chuckle, jet black locks whipping around wildly in the wind, a song, a dance.
That little seed, that little idea that had sprouted from a dream he had, it had almost possessed him, like how the CEOs of the company were possessed with the idea of moon gems, more previous than diamond or gold itself.
Why not make a person?
He had more than enough materials, no doubt. They had supplied him with more than enough to last for two years, and if he needed more, he could simply dispatch a message with the next shipment of gems.
And he was adequate enough. More than that, they had trained him to build A.Is, or Artificial life forms in case he’d ever needed help. With a photographic memory, it was hard to forget what he had been taught. He was certain, more than certain, that he could create a perfect model.
And he did.
Sketches, drafts and paper filled the floor around him as he inched back, taking one full look at the robot he’d created. Brushing his fingers over its almost too human-like skin, he silently cheered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was almost too perfect, too human.
He ran his hand through its mushroom-cut raven hair, cupping its cheek, hand trailing down to the collarbone as his free hand pressed the activation button. Slowly, the robot’s hand jerked, before jerking upwards to hold his own hand. Minho stopped. It was warm.
Buzzes filled the air as it came to life, systems started up, eyelids started to flutter, limbs moved and twitched. It opened its eyes to reveal dark brown orbs, a camera adjusting its focus, hidden behind the fake eye.
“Taemin.” Minho breathed as it turned to look at him, at first with a vacant expression, which was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Minho hyung.”
In time, Minho agreed with himself that Taemin was indeed quite perfect, almost too human. The way his chest rose and fell with the help of gears to make it seem like he was breathing, the way he talked, laughed, moved. Hell, Taemin even felt. The only difference he could really note was that Taemin did not have to eat, nor use the bathroom. He has a reserve tank of water in him in case he ever needs to cool his internals down, but that is about all the water he has in his body.
And being so lonely for so long, somewhere along the lines, Minho gradually started to fall in love with Taemin. He knew no good would come out of it. A human in love with a machine was ridiculous. And what's even more ridiculous was that he’d hoped that Taemin would reciprocate the feelings.
But the Taemin did.
Time rolled past, days, weeks, months. Minho showed him affection of course, through hugging, brushing of hair from his face, a kiss on the crown of his head, sweet words. And Taemin had given it all back.
Brushes of hands turned to intertwining ones, hugs were given, sweet nothings were whispered and kisses were stolen. Minho was sure that it was heaven.
He loved the way Taemin’s eyes creased when he smiled, loved the way he moved, loved the way he swayed his hips, loved the way he spoke, loved Taemin's laugh, and the way he threw a silent fit when something did not go the way he wanted it. He loved the way Taemin kissed him, the way he hugged him, the way he smelled, the way he said ‘Minho’, like the name was made to roll off his tongue. He loved everything about the robot, and he really didn’t care if society found it accepting.
But like all good things, it came to an end.
A.Is were not built to last very long, and Taemin started to break down a little after the second year passed. He malfunctioned more frequently, movements were more jerky, cameras did not coordinate well, data was jumbled one too many times.
“I’ll fix you up if you ever break down, Taemin-yah. I made you, and I can make you again.” Minho had assured Taemin one day, confidence brimming in his voice, and Taemin merely smiled.
He broke down completely a week after.
Minho had rebooted the system, changed his motherboards, created a new body, tried everything to re-create the Taemin he loved so very dearly, but it was to no avail. For some reason, all of Taemin’s memory was sealed, leaving the new robots (he’d refused to call them Taemin) with no memory of what had happened between them. He had tried to implant his own memory into the new robots’ chip, hoping that somehow, they’d know how he felt and feel the same way. But that had not worked either. The new ones he had made were simply not Taemin, and would never be.
The worst part of it all, Minho believed, was that he remembered everything so clearly, like it had only just happened. Everything he did, everywhere he went, he saw Taemin. He only saw Taemin. He wondered if it was the curse of having a photographic memory.
He set Taemin’s memory card back into his body, and reverted everything to the way it was before Taemin ‘died’. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pressed the activation button continuously, kissing him as he did so, chanting “wake up, wake up.”
There was, however, no whirls of engines, no buzz of systems, no laugh, no eye crinkles, nothing. Only silent sobs from the man clutching desperately onto the cold body.
A buzz.
A monitor came on in the distance, screen projecting the words ‘Live Feed Available’ for a brief moment before static replaced it, and Minho could barely make out the sounds coming from it.
Soft ‘Hello’s were heard as he inched closed, confused as to how the live feed was suddenly available. The company had made it clear that they would not fix it.
There was movement behind the monotonous fuzz that covered the screen, and somebody was talking to him. The static cleared up after a while, revealing a blonde man of around twenty-five years. “Seoul, Korea” was written at the bottom of the screen and Minho inched forward.
“Hello?”
--
Annddd then the rest if up to your imagination. 8'D;;a /gets ready to be shot/ But yes. Uhm. Quick update because I think that I'll be a little busy this week sob. But I'll post a fanart for SHINee's 3rd Anniversary this week eheh. Will definitely not miss that eheh. Have a great week ahead guys!
-Allena